


Guilt and Shame

by Multifangirl69



Series: The Witcher's Sins [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Biting, Clothed Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Kissing, Sad feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Sex on Horse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifangirl69/pseuds/Multifangirl69
Summary: Geralt gets drugged by a weird flower and Jaskier tries to get him to a doctor.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher's Sins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094141
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	Guilt and Shame

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be shameless smut, but it evolved into angst. I'm sorry.  
> Anyway, my first Witcher fic!!! I'm happy with this, short and simple. Maybe I will write a second part, because oh boy do they need to talk.  
> Please read the tags!

“Hold on, Geralt! Are you still with me?” Jaskier questioned, carefully guiding Roach along the dirt path. Behind him, the witcher held tightly onto his shoulders, hands trembling. Incredible heat radiated from Geralt’s broad chest pressed against Jaskier’s back and his even warmer breath brushed against the bard’s neck, only interrupted by soft spoken words.

“Yes. Can’t you go any faster?” Geralt questioned and Jaskier saw him tilt his head, his white man falling everywhere.

“No! If I do, you’ll fall down. Or worse, we both fall down. You barely have any strength to keep yourself up!” Jaskier scoffed, shaking his head. The next town was close enough anyway and he believed the Witcher, when he assured that the strange flower smoke wouldn’t kill him. Yet.

Geralt huffed softly, his mouth so close to Jaskier’s ear, that every exhale sent shivers down his spine. The heat seemed to seep into his slender body as well and his grip tightened on the reins. So close, they were so close. Jaskier couldn’t remember a time they were so close. Geralt’s whole torso pressed against his, every little movement felt.

Despite the shallow pace, Geralt’s body bounced behind Jaskier. His white knuckled hands loosened and hardened their grips on the bard’s shoulders. Jaskier was sure the Witcher was actually doing most of the movements from his intention, but what intention that exactly is, the bard couldn’t say.

Perhaps he felt itchy? Or his clothes felt constricting?

“Jaskier...Jaskier…” Geralt suddenly whispered, like delirious, and his hands slipped lower, gripping the bard’s sides just above his hips. Jaskier straightened his back, instinctively trying to escape the touch. This was no time to take advantage of Geralt.

“You smell so good. So sweet…” The low voice seeped right into Jaskier’s skin, flesh, down to his bone, leaving him shivering and very confused.

“That’s very kind of you, but maybe you shouldn’t talk too much. Drink some water,” Jaskier quickly said, turning his torso a little to look at Geralt. 

A sudden fear bloomed in his chest at the sight of the dark amber gaze. So full of primal hunger. Pearls of sweat dripped along the man’s pale face, expression twisted with desperation and guilt. Jaskier opened his mouth to speak, so many questions heavy on his tongue, but they were all swallowed by a kiss. If this could be called a kiss. Geralt devoured the bard’s lips with teeth, biting and sucking, ignoring pained groans muffled by the Witcher’s eager tongue slipping between the bleeding lips.

Jaskier pushed his elbow against Geralt’s chest and tried to twist his head away, but a sudden hand snaked into his hazel hair, gripping a handful of strands. Despite the drug working it’s way through Geralt’s body, his strength didn’t wither. At least not enough for Jaskier to fight against him.

“Geralt, wait! Please-” Jaskier couldn’t swallow any air before his teeth clashed with Geralt’s once more. His fangs caught the bard’s tongue and Jaskier actually gagged, overwhelmed by the way the other man pulled at the pink flesh, like trying to rip it off. 

Jaskier pushed harder against Geralt’s chest and almost forgot they were still on a horse back. Roach huffed heavy and protested against Jaskier’s wild pulls at the reins, hooves scratching against the dirt and stones. This caught Geralt’s attention too, breaking his attention just long enough for Jaskier to face forward again. He licked drops of blood off his bottom lip and stirred Roach back into a comfortable walk. But for the bard, this was anything but comfortable, because Geralt’s arms curled around his waist and held him tight.

“Geralt, please-” Teeth bit down on Jaskier’s tender neck and he gasped. He threw back his head, but the hand from before pushed back into his hair, gripping and tilting Jaskier’s head to the side. Geralt bit and sucked at the presented skin, leaving dark spots all over. All the while, his other arm still rested on Jaskier’s stomach, holding him in place. Not that there was anywhere for the bard to go.

Jaskier glanced at the road underneath the horse’s hooves and pondered for a moment to try and jump, but could he ever outrun a Witcher? He closed his eyes and gasped again at a particularly hard bite. No. He couldn’t. His only hope would be if Geralt didn’t run after him at all, but what then?

A sudden tug at his hair threw off his thoughts and he glanced at the Witcher’s face, now flushed deep scarlet. A thin line of blood stuck to his bottom lip and Jaskier could feel some of the hot liquid run along his bruised neck. Geralt just stared at him though, eyes narrowed into golden slits, sparking like alluring gemstones.

“You feel so good, Jaskier. You feel so fucking good,” Geralt growled and his arm pressed harder against the bard’s stomach. Jaskier frowned, but pushed aside the feeling of his insides being crushed by the witcher’s strength.

No, his attention fell on the movements against his lower back. Or rutting might fit better. Through the tight leather pants, Jaskier could feel Geralt’s throbbing erection. Rock hard and big. Jaskier swallowed, gripping the reins tighter and leaning forward. There was no escape though and Geralt seemed more than happy about the new position, slipping his arm from underneath Jaskier and pressing both hands against the bard’s shoulder blades.

Jaskier obeyed the unspoken order and leaned further forward, turning his head away from Roach’s neck. Only the side of his face got buried in the dark brown mane, but that was enough for him to breath in the smell of mud and fresh grass. It distracted him a little from the pressure on his lower back. Geralt kept moving his hands up and down, never satisfied with a position. His hips continued thrusting despite the uncomfortable angle and Jaskier’s protests.

He turned his head and buried his whole face in Roach’s fur, breathing in deeply the natural scent of the horse. It was simply disgusting, making him feel sick, but kept his mind and body busy. He could ignore Geralt’s low grunts and forceful handling with the heavy smell numbing every sense the bard had.

Heat pooled where Geralt’s hard cock rubbed through clothes from the pressure and friction, leaving the skin underneath the scraping, rough material raw. Jaskier couldn’t ignore the pain unfortunately and it pulled him back into reality. How long Geralt had been going like an animal in heat, Jaskier didn’t know, but the Witcher’s expression showed hints of pain. The position was taking its toll on the white haired man as well.

Not that it slowed him down though.

“Jaskier,” Geralt called out, digging his fingers into the bard’s hips, holding them so tight, Jaskier knew they would leave bruises, “look at me. Please. Look at me.”

Pleading words masked by a heated breath, too fast, uneven, spilling heavy and hot from Geralt’s lip as he leaned forward. His hips stopped for a moment, but only so Geralt could adjust the new position. Jaskier’s arms fell limp around Roach’s long neck and he practically hugged the horse despite soft protests from it. He closed his eyes, pressed his face harder into the dirty mane, only feeling Geralt leaning on him.

“Please, Jaskier. Look at me. I need you to look at me,” Geralt whispered, so close, so uncomfortably close. Jaskier shivered and shook his head. The grip on his hips tightened when he thought it wasn’t possible, so close to breaking his bones, so easy to break his bones. 

Jaskier would let Geralt do it. He had complained and protested, had tried to ignore the way the Witcher used his body, didn’t think about the heat, the noises, the implications. But deep down, Jaskier couldn’t deny a certain strain in his chest. A happiness, a compliance, a feeling of love. Under different circumstances, Jaskier would have embraced Geralt, and would have rolled with him naked under the moonlight on a field of flowers. He had imagined the Witcher’s hands on his bare skin, his hard kisses, stern yet wild. Jaskier had wished for the untamed pleasures they could share.

And because of this need, the desperation, Jaskier let Geralt do it.

“Look at me, Jaskier!” Teeth bit at the boy’s neck again, a cat trying to get the mouse to run again, ignite the chase once again. And Jaskier listened, because he couldn’t deny the Witcher, because he had wished for this for so long.

Jaskier lifted and turned his head, catching the dark glimmering amber. The thrusting picked up pace in the same moment, Geralt’s cock hard and scorching hot even through the clothes. Geralt groaned and kept mumbling the bard’s name. And it did some things to Jaskier.

Through the disgust and strain from the position, Jaskier couldn’t deny the heat pooling in his guts and his own erection. With Geralt’s continuous movements, making them both bounce on top of Roach, friction was forced upon Jaskier’s dick as well through the leather saddle underneath him. 

Their desperate sounds mingled in the empty forest sprouting around them, only accompanied by the sound of Roach’s hooves on the flat path. Intense body heat fought against the cold that had creeped underneath their clothing before. Jaskier had almost completely forgotten what the situation really was. Only Geralt’s touch mattered, his grip on Jaskier’s hips, his hard cock thrusting, the sharp teeth and wet lips against Jaskier’s naked neck. So much. Too much.

They both moaned as all the raw pleasure crashed down on them and closely following behind was regret and shame. Jaskier buried his face into Roach’s mane again, not believing the growing dampness in his crotch. How could he say he hated this when it did so much to him?

“Jaskier...look at me, please,” Geralt whispered again, but very different to before. Still desperate, but instead of needy and hungry, there was guilt dripping heavy with every word. Especially when he repeated the bard’s name. Jaskier listened as before, but sat up properly this time, not restricted by the Witcher’s hands anymore, and glanced over his shoulder. Geralt had wrapped his arms around himself instead.

But what really got Jaskier was Geralt’s expression. He stared wide eyed, soft amber sparking with too many emotions, more than Jaskier had ever seen before in his friend’s eyes. His lips opened and closed, words too heavy on his tongue, but Jaskier didn’t need to hear them.

“Don’t say anything. Please,” Jaskier simply said and turned forward, getting a good grip on the reins again. He stirred Roach into a faster pace and fixed his gaze on the road.

“Jaskier-”

“No. Don’t.” 

Jaskier shocked himself with his firm tone. Cold, showing no sign how he truly felt. Geralt fell silent though and he probably thought Jaskier was understandably angry. If only he was. But instead of anger, instead of hatred, Jaskier felt pity for Geralt and himself, for how long it will take them to recover from this. 

Jaskier wished he could tell Geralt how much he loves him, but Geralt wouldn’t want to hear it, not with all the guilt and shame hooked so deep.


End file.
